


after the storm

by highly_caffeinated



Series: life itself [2]
Category: Rocketman (2019), Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Elton is a complete disaster, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friendship, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, John can't decide if he's horrible or not, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, i am so sorry for the state of my summary, i swear the story will end up better than the summary makes it sound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highly_caffeinated/pseuds/highly_caffeinated
Summary: "Just take care of yourself."Seems simple enough, right? It didn't take a genius to figure out that that's what Elton was supposed to be doing while in rehab. Just sitting back, relaxing, and spending time taking care of himself. But he couldn't even do that, and he figured it was only a matter of time before Bernie and John found out about his failure to do the one thing he was supposed to do. He didn’t want to have to look the two of them in the eyes and tell them that he had failed, didn’t want to have to see their disappointed faces staring him down before abandoning him.But now it's just him, wandering aimlessly through everything and hoping that he has the strength to pull himself together before he spirals out of control.*fully edited as of 11/10/2020*
Relationships: Elton John & Bernie Taupin, Elton John/John Reid
Series: life itself [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659367
Comments: 19
Kudos: 27





	1. breaking the habit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to part 2 of the 'life itself' series and, as always, feel free to let me know what you think in the comments :)
> 
> *this story is based primarily on the movie and its portrayal of things. it does not follow the exact timeline, though. this story is also not a reflection of how situations actually occurred or how people actually acted (in short, this is a work of FICTION)*

_Everything’s gonna be fine, Reg._

_You’re gonna be fine._

_Use this time to focus on taking care of yourself._

  
  


Elton lit a cigarette and shook his head as he thought of the last things Bernie had said to him that day during their phone call. He figured it was only a matter of time before Bernie and John found out about him leaving the center and he was trying to put off the inevitable confrontation for as long as possible. He didn’t want to have to look the two of them in the eyes and tell them that he had failed, didn’t want to have to see their disappointed faces staring him down.

They didn't get it, though. They didn't understand how hard it was for him to just 'focus on taking care of himself.' He had tried to; he'd done what the doctors told him to do, ate what they wanted him to eat, and stopped purging all the time. He held on for as long as he possibly could. He couldn't do it, though. Not anymore.

He just wasn't strong enough.

*****

“He left,” John snapped in lieu of a greeting as soon as Bernie had answered the phone. “He fucking left.”

“What are you talking about, John?” Bernie sighed into the receiver. “Who left?”

“Who the hell do you think?” he barked, frustration growing. “He checked himself out of treatment, Taupin,” John hissed, trying to hide the panic in his voice. “He’s gone.”

“How do you know?”

“I was supposed to go see him, but when I got there one of the nurses told me that he’d left.”

“Well, do you have any idea where he went?”

“Not really. I thought he’d be with you.” John paused for a moment. “Clearly I was wrong, though.” And with that, he hung up the phone and went back to pacing around his office.

*****

The house was quiet when Elton unlocked the door and he sighed as he wandered into the main entrance. He was glad that John wasn’t home, as he wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated about his whereabouts or yelled at for his recent string of poor choices.

He yawned, feeling all of his exhaustion from the past few days returning to him, and he glanced at his watch. _How is it only six p.m.?_ he thought to himself, groaning at the fact that it was still pretty early. He had barely slept over the past few days and he wanted nothing more than to just lay in his own bed and have a decent night’s sleep. So he dragged himself up the stairs and into his bedroom, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed on the bed before closing his eyes.

The lights in the bedroom were off when John finally returned to the house that evening and it gave him a strange sense of déjà vu to when he had returned to his and Elton’s hotel room after the incident all those months ago. He sighed in relief as soon as he entered the bedroom and saw Elton laying on his side on the bed, fast asleep. He walked over to his boyfriend’s side of the bed and shook his shoulder to wake him up. He only groaned in response and swatted weakly at John’s hand. “Elton,” he sighed as he continued shaking him, “wake up.”

“Hm,” he groaned again, opening his eyes and grabbing John’s hand. “Lay down with me.” John paused for a minute and stared at his boyfriend before slowly climbing onto the bed next to him.

“Why did you come back here?” he asked, interlacing their fingers together as he and Elton laid facing each other on the bed.

"This is my house. Why wouldn't I come back here?"

"No... I just," he paused, sighing, "I figured you wouldn't want to come back here." Elton raised an eyebrow in confusion. "So why did you?"

“Didn’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Well, why did you check yourself out of treatment?”

“I just—I don’t know—couldn’t do it anymore,” he shrugged, sitting up and avoiding his boyfriend’s gaze the best he could. John started rubbing Elton’s back slowly, trying to make him as calm as possible. “Everything was too much for me to cope with.”

“Is this because of the whole thing with your weight that you were upset about while you were there?” He didn’t answer. “Because I already told you when I visited that it’s not a big deal and it doesn’t matter to me.” Elton shook his head quickly.

“I look…” he trailed off, staring down at his lap and fidgeting with the sleeves of the sweatshirt he was wearing.

“You look so much better now, darling.” 

“I guess…” he mumbled, biting his lip nervously. John could tell that Elton didn’t really believe him and was on the verge of getting upset, so he suggested that the two of them just go to sleep for the night.

“Come here,” he whispered, gesturing for Elton to lay next to him. “You look exhausted.” He stared at John for a minute before relenting, crawling into his boyfriend’s arms and laying his head on John’s chest.

Elton’s head was still resting on his bare chest when John woke up the next morning. He had to admit that he was kind of frustrated with his boyfriend for checking himself out of rehab, but, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t all that surprised. He figured the other man wasn’t quite ready to deal with everything, and John guessed he couldn’t really blame him for that.

He glanced down at Elton as he slept and started playing with the hem of the other man’s oversized sweatshirt. It was slightly odd to see his boyfriend like this, since he typically preferred to sleep with as little clothes on as possible. John knew exactly what the issue was, though; he knew that Elton was largely uncomfortable and self-conscious because of the weight he had gained while in treatment. But what the other man didn’t see was how much healthier he looked now that he wasn’t constantly going days without eating just to binge and throw up pretty much anything he ate, regardless of if it was from a binge or not.

Elton wrapped his arms around himself and stared at his plate of food, not at all interested in eating. He wasn’t really interested in doing anything, actually, but especially not eating. His boyfriend didn’t understand that, though. John paused when he noticed that the other man wasn’t eating his breakfast and put his fork down. “You’re not eating.”

“I’m not really hungry,” he mumbled, shrugging. John sighed. “I was forced to eat so much while in treatment that I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again.”

“You still need to eat, though.”

“Not really,” he scoffed, shaking his head. John slammed his fist on the table and Elton flinched at the sound.

“Fine. Don’t eat, then. See if I care.” John threw his hands up in exasperation and walked out, a glare firmly plastered on his face.

Elton waited a few minutes before pushing his still-full plate away with a huff and leaving the room. He wandered around for a bit, completely lost in his thoughts, until he was brought back by the sound of the phone ringing. He thought for a second about just letting it ring but eventually decided against it, walking over and picking it up with a groan. “Hello?” he muttered, trying his best to hide his annoyance.

“Elton? Is that you?” Bernie asked on the other end, the surprise clear in his voice.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What do you want, Bernie?”

“Where the hell have you been?” the other man snapped. Elton didn’t know what to say. “Why would you check yourself out of rehab when you knew you weren’t better yet?”

“I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t…” He didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence, Bernie promptly cutting him off.

“Really, Elton, how could you be that selfish?”

“Selfish?” he choked out, almost dropping the phone in shock as his eyes filled with angry tears. “You don’t mean that.”

“We were worried sick about you, Elton. You finally decide to start taking care of yourself, and then you leave before anything really changes. You promised that you would go through with it. You couldn’t even do that one thing for us!” Elton cringed at how loudly his friend was yelling.

“You know what,” he whispered, trying to keep himself from crying, “I tried, Bernie. I went to the group therapy sessions and I talked about how I was feeling and I ate what the doctors told me to when they told me to. I fucking tried for as long as I could. I’m just sorry that it wasn’t good enough.” He slammed the phone down as soon as he was done, getting up from the sofa and going to his room. 

“Get up, Elton,” John said, walking into the bedroom later that day and throwing a pillow at his boyfriend. “It’s time for dinner.”

“Not hungry,” he groaned, voice slightly muffled by the blanket his face was pressed into.

“I don’t care if you’re not hungry,” he snapped as he threw another pillow at him, “it’s time for dinner. So you are going to get yourself out of bed, meet me downstairs, and eat a fucking meal.” 


	2. here and now

Bernie had been trying to get ahold of Elton ever since his friend had hung up on him a couple of weeks earlier. He knew he had been a little harsh with the other man, but he couldn’t help it; he was just so frustrated. He was frustrated that his best friend didn’t care enough about himself to actually go through with treatment.

He tried everything to get Elton to talk to him: he called his house, he called John’s office; he even showed up at his friend's house when neither of the other things worked. Each time was exactly the same, though, and Bernie was tired of being shut out by the person he cared about most in the world.

It wasn’t until he finally managed to hassle some information out of John that he was able to actually see his friend. He found out that Elton had a costume fitting that day and was planning on using that information to force the other man to talk to him.

*****

Since he looked so much healthier now, Elton’s weight didn’t really bother John or concern him much. He was just glad the other man no longer looked somewhat emaciated or on the verge of dropping dead. He couldn’t say the same for how the other man felt about himself, though, especially once John brought him to the costume fitting and he realized that a lot of the outfits didn’t fit him right and some didn’t fit at all anymore. He was really starting to wish that he had never gone to treatment in the first place.

After the fourth time this happened, Elton stomped out and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. “Elton, stop being ridiculous,” John sighed, walking over to the bathroom and knocking on the door.

“I’m not being ridiculous, John,” he whined, leaning against the sink. “I’m hideous, and none of these outfits are gonna look good because the stupid doctors at the center made me eat so much and wouldn’t let me throw up, so now I look like a sack of potatoes.”

“Tell me something, Elton,” he said through the door, pausing his knocking so the other man could hear him. “What do you actually think you look like?” There were a few seconds of silence before Elton slowly opened the bathroom door.

“What?” he whispered, looking at John with wide eyes.

“Do you actually have any idea what you look like?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You keep going on about hating what you look like, but did you not see how bad things were before? How awful you looked and how you could barely function? Can you honestly say that you liked being like that?” Elton shrugged. “So stop fucking complaining and be grateful that you’re healthy now.”

Bernie couldn’t tell if he was surprised or not when he walked into the building and heard John and Elton fighting in one of the other rooms. He headed toward the sound, cringing at the two men’s volume as he went and feeling his stomach drop as he caught some of their conversation. 

“Okay, well, I’m sorry that I’m having a hard fucking time, John,” he snapped, shrugging the other man’s hand off of his shoulder. “Just cut me some slack for once.” John laughed coldly.

“Cut you some slack? I’ve given you more than enough chances to get over yourself, Elton.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It _means_ ,” he started, “that I’m tired of dealing with you constantly whining and being miserable about everything. Every time someone tries to care about you at all, you just push them away so that you can run off and self-destruct. You never even try to get better; you just sit there whining about your weight or what you look like or that you want to kill yourself. You’re not the only person who has problems, Elton, so just stop wasting my time.” Elton couldn’t take it anymore. He shot out of his chair and grabbed John by the shoulders, crashing him against the wall and holding him there.

John’s eyes darkened and Elton backed up slightly, knowing that nothing good ever happened when his boyfriend looked at him like that. “John, I—” he stuttered, stopping when the other man hit him across the face. He stumbled back, falling over a chair and hitting the ground with a groan. _Why were these dressing rooms always filled with so much bloody furniture?_ he thought to himself, bringing a hand up to wipe the blood from his nose. The other man just sneered at him before turning to look in the mirror, straightening his jacket and tie, and going to leave.

“I really wish you would stop fucking things up for everyone else just because you hate yourself and have such a pathetic, miserable waste of a life,” John hissed, smirking when he saw his boyfriend’s face fall. Elton got up as quickly as he could and grabbed the vase that was on the table next to him.

Unfortunately, Bernie chose that exact moment to open the door to the room, barely missing being hit by the vase that Elton threw at John. “Get out!” he yelled over the sound of the vase shattering against the wall behind where Bernie was standing. John just continued smirking.

“Give me a call when you finally decide to kill yourself.” Elton went to jump at John and Bernie rushed in between the two men, holding his friend back and almost being knocked over in the process.

“Let go of me, Bernie,” he groaned, struggling in his friend’s arms and trying to break out of his hold. Bernie only shook his head; John laughed coldly and Elton fought harder to get out of Bernie’s grasp.

“Just get out of here, Reid,” Bernie snapped, looking over his shoulder at the man and continuing to hold Elton’s body against his in an attempt to keep him from attacking his boyfriend. “Now.”

Bernie let go of Elton as soon as John left and the man immediately collapsed to the floor now that he no longer had his friend’s arms around him. He spent a few seconds on the ground before trying to pull himself up, immediately sitting back down with a wince when his head started hurting. “Come on... Up you go,” Bernie said, going to help his friend.

“I’m fine, Bernie,” he sighed heavily, “just leave me alone.” He tried to walk around him to get out of the room but Bernie blocked the door.

“No,” he snapped, shaking his head. “You’re not going anywhere until we talk things out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Bernie. I failed. I got scared when things started changing and I couldn’t handle it, end of story.” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I’m weak.” Bernie felt his heart break a little and he took one of Elton’s hands in his.

“Hey,” he whispered, “you are not weak. You said it yourself: you were scared.” He stared at his friend for a minute before deciding to continue. “And I’m sorry I called you selfish. You know I didn't mean it.” Elton just shrugged and patted his arm.

“It’s fine.”


	3. run for cover

“So John moved all of his stuff into one of the guest bedrooms,” Elton told Bernie as they talked on the phone.

“Really?” He had to admit that he was actually kind of shocked by that.

“Yeah. And we haven’t slept together in over a week.” He heard Bernie groan on his end of the call.

“I really don’t need to know about your and Reid’s sex life or, in this case, lack thereof.” He smiled a little when he heard Elton chuckle weakly. “Have you considered the idea that maybe this is kind of a good thing?”

“What?” he snapped and Bernie cringed.

“I just mean… Maybe it’s a good thing that the two of you are, you know, taking a bit of a break from each other.”

“We still live together, though.”

“I know. It’s just… Your relationship isn’t really healthy.”

“Mr. John?” one of the maids called, and he moved the phone from his ear to look over at the woman. “Breakfast is ready.” Elton groaned, nodding once and going back to the call.

“I have to go, Bernie. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone and dragged himself into the kitchen, sitting down at the table and wrinkling his nose at the plate of food that was placed in front of him. He spared a quick glance at John, but the other man never looked up from the newspaper he was reading. He sighed and went back to poking at his food.

“Would you _stop_ that,” John snapped, looking across the table at Elton. “It’s driving me mad.”

The ‘it’ John was referring to was the sound of Elton nervously tapping his fork against his plate and the table. He hadn’t really been in much of an ‘eating mood’ lately, so he had been spending the past few days just pushing his food around on his plate instead of actually eating it. It originally started because of how he was feeling about his body, but now he could barely look at or smell food without getting nauseous. This morning was apparently no different; he started feeling sick the longer he stared at his breakfast and he slowly wrapped an arm around himself, groaning quietly.

“Why aren’t you eating?” John finally asked, putting his newspaper down and looking at the other man.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I was just wondering.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t decided to kill myself, if that’s why.” Elton stood from the table and brought his full plate to the sink, dropping it there and leaving the kitchen. John heard the sound of the other man heading upstairs and he sighed, shaking his head and going back to his own breakfast.

“Mr. Reid?” John looked up from his food to see one of the maids staring at him worriedly.

“What is it?”

“Well… I'm worried there's something wrong with Mr. John. He’s barely touched any of his meals for the past few days and then yesterday I heard him being sick after dinner.” John sighed and ran a hand over his face tiredly.

“He’s fine. Just leave it be. Elton’s an adult, he can do what he wants. Okay?” The woman didn’t look the least bit reassured by that.

“Yes, but shouldn’t we—”

“Just leave it,” he snapped, getting up from the table and going into his office. She listened for the sound of him closing the door and ran to the phone as soon as she heard it, dialing the number that they had given her on her first day. The line rang a few times before the person finally picked up.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Taupin?” She figured it was him, but she wanted to be sure.

“Yeah... Is something the matter?” When he received no answer from the woman, he started to get worried. “Hello?”

“I’m, well… I’m worried that there’s something wrong with Mr. John."

"I talked to him this morning and he sounded fine," he started, the worry clear in his voice. "What happened?"

"I heard him being sick after dinner yesterday and he's barely eaten anything in days. I told Mr. Reid about it but he wouldn’t do anything and I just—I don’t know—thought that you,” she coughed awkwardly, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

“No, no, no, I’m glad you called. I’ll, um... I'll be right over, okay?”

*****

“Elton?” Bernie shouted as soon as he walked into his friend’s house a few hours later. He wasn’t overly surprised when he received no answer, instead deciding to just head upstairs to the man’s bedroom. The lights were off when he entered the room and he sighed deeply when he heard the familiar sound of his friend being sick coming from the bathroom.

Elton was collapsed over the toilet, shaking violently as his stomach forcefully expelled all of its contents. Bernie noticed the blanket pooled around Elton’s legs and he vaguely wondered if the other man had been sleeping before this all happened.

His friend weakly reached out an arm to flush the toilet, whining quietly when he missed the handle. Bernie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips and he chuckled for a moment before stopping when he heard Elton start coughing roughly. He knelt on the floor next to his friend and rubbed his back slowly. When it seemed like he was finally finished throwing up, Bernie helped him sit back against the wall and wrapped the blanket around his shivering body before flushing the toilet.

“Am I dead?” he mumbled, voice barely audible as he turned to look at Bernie. His skin was pale and washed-out and Bernie placed a hand against his friend’s forehead, cringing at how warm he was. He swatted Bernie’s hand away as he was hit with another wave of nausea and he groaned, pushing himself off the floor and hunching over the toilet again, vomiting painfully. He didn’t understand how there was still anything left in his stomach since he had barely eaten over the past few days. “I think I might be dead.” Bernie chuckled and started rubbing his back slowly again.

“You’re not dead, Elton. You’re sick.” He patted the other man’s shoulder gently and went to help him up. “Now come on, let’s get you back in bed and I’ll make you some tea.”

He opened his eyes, immediately wishing he hadn’t when he saw something red. “Bernie,” he stuttered, “there’s, uh… There's blood in the—"

“Hey,” he cut in, noticing his friend starting to panic, “calm down a second, okay?” Elton tried to take a few deep breaths and nodded slowly. “Good. Everything’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine.” He started shaking his head and Bernie grabbed his hand. “No no no, don’t start freaking out on me now, Elton. You are going to go back to bed and sleep for a little while longer, all right?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, shuffling over to the bed and laying down. He tossed and turned for a couple of minutes before finally curling into a ball and falling asleep.

*****

“You really need to eat something,” Bernie sighed as he stared worriedly down at his friend. He had been sick for the past two days and hadn’t eaten an actual meal since… Well, Bernie wasn’t really sure when, but based on how much his cheekbones were sticking out now, he was guessing that it had been a while.

“No,” he groaned, burrowing deeper into the blankets. Bernie ran his hand through his hair.

“Okay, well… Can you at least get out from under the covers so that I can check your temperature?” He didn’t answer. “I promise I’ll let you go back to sleep as soon as I’m done.” Elton threw the blankets off of himself with a huff and sat up, quickly grabbing one of the blankets again and wrapping it around himself when he started shivering. Bernie sighed at his friend and shook his head.

“Are we almost done?” Elton whined, curling in on himself and squeezing his eyes shut. Bernie nodded and poked him until he opened his eyes. 

“You still have a fever, so you’re going to lay back down while I go get you some more tea, okay?” Elton just stared at him. “I’ll be right back.” He quickly made his way downstairs, putting a kettle on and making cups for both Elton and himself before bringing them back upstairs. When he reentered the bedroom, he wasn’t at all surprised to find his friend asleep again, so he just put the cup on the bedside table and went back downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all like the chapter and, as always, feel free to let me know what you think in the comments
> 
> this may not be updated as quickly as usual, at least for a little while, while i try and figure things out and deal with the recent death of someone in my life. i'll try and get it updated as quickly as I can, though


	4. open your eyes

Elton sat curled up in one of the chairs in the kitchen, a bottle of vodka clutched in his hand and a plate of food sitting in front of him. He couldn’t quite remember how long he’d been sitting there or where the food had come from, but based on the stiffness in his muscles, he was guessing that it had probably been a while. This was the first time he had ventured downstairs in a week and he was starting to wish he hadn’t. He didn’t get why being sick made you feel so weak and tired all the time, even now that he didn’t have a fever anymore. 

“Hey, you’re up!” Bernie said when he entered the kitchen, glad to see his friend finally out of bed. “And you’re eating,” he added, face breaking out in a wide smile despite the worry he felt at seeing his friend drinking this early in the morning. Elton looked at the plate in front of him, wrinkling his nose in disgust. His appetite was still nonexistent and he had absolutely no desire to eat anything, but he knew that he needed to. He hadn’t eaten a full meal in over a week and it was starting to show. Personally, he didn’t really care that he was barely eating; he kind of liked the fact that he was losing weight. He knew Bernie was upset about it, though.

“Uh… Yeah. I guess,” he mumbled, poking at the food with his fork. “Have you seen John?” he asked quietly, staring at his friend as he put the food he bought at the store into the cabinets.

“I think he went to his office.”

“Do you think you could drive me there?” he asked, biting his lip nervously and avoiding his friend’s gaze.

“Elton,” he sighed, “do you really think that’s a good idea?” The other man just stared at him. “I mean, you’re still not completely over being sick and—"

“I have to talk to him, Bernie,” he whined, swatting weakly at the other man’s arm, “I need to apologize.”

“Why?” He noticed Elton starting to zone out a little and nudged him, pointing at the plate once he had gotten his attention. “Eat a little more.” He gave Bernie a look and took a few more bites before placing his fork on the table and pushing the plate away from himself with a huff.

“I’m not eating any more of it,” he mumbled, turning to look at his friend. Bernie sighed heavily as he stared at his friend’s half-eaten plate of food.

“Well… I mean, I guess this is better than nothing.” Elton just shrugged. “Why don’t you go clean yourself up a bit and then I’ll take you, okay?” Elton stared at him for a minute before nodding once, slowly getting up from the table, and shuffling out of the room.

*****

John looked up when he heard someone knock on the door to his office, surprised to see Elton standing there. “What are you doing here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the other man.

“Can we talk?” John looked at him for a minute before nodding slowly and gesturing to one of the chairs for him to sit.

“What do you want, Elton?” he asked as soon as the other man sat down. He stayed silent, not really sure where to begin. There was so much that he needed to say to John, but he couldn’t figure out what to start with. “As you can see I’m kind of busy, so if you’re not going to speak any time soon I’ll have to—”

“I don’t want to be a waste of your time,” he blurted out.

“What?”

“I don’t want to be a waste of your time,” he repeated, looking down at his hands in his lap and absentmindedly running his thumb over the scars on his wrists. John’s gaze traveled down to the other man’s hands and he sighed when he noticed it. “I can stop being so melodramatic all the time,” he continued, rambling, “and I won’t complain or be as selfish… And we can work this out.”

“Well… No,” he shook his head.

“What?”

“Our relationship is over, Elton. I need to be able to maintain a certain level of objectivity in regard to your career and I can’t do that if I’m spending all of my time trying to make sure you don’t go off the deep end.” Elton couldn’t believe what was happening. John was actually leaving him. He was so in shock by the man’s words that he almost didn’t catch what he said next. “I’ll still be your manager, but any romantic relations between us are done.”

“Oh… Okay then,” he whispered, nodding once and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He did his best to avoid John’s gaze, not wanting the other man to see that he was hurt by those words. He stood slowly from his chair, shaking slightly. “I guess I’ll go.”

“Oh… And Elton?” he called as a bit of an afterthought. The other man turned to look at him, eyebrow raised in confusion. “I’ll call to let you know when the next recording session is.”

“Yeah, okay.” And with that, he left, walking out the door and toward the car. He pulled the door open and got in without a word.

“How did it go?” Bernie asked as soon as Elton closed the door.

“I need a fucking drink, Bernie,” he sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Let’s go do something.” Bernie just stared at him, eyebrow raised in confusion. “What?”

“You do realize that it’s not even eleven in the morning, right?”

*****

Bernie stared at his friend worriedly as the two of them sat drinking at the bar. They had been there for almost an hour and Elton was already drunk. “I loved him, Bernie,” he sighed, looking at his friend with sad eyes.

“I know, mate. I know.”

“And I think,” he slurred, finishing his drink and gesturing for the bartender to get him another, “I think… He probably loved me too.” Bernie tried to take the glass from his shaking hands, but he just swatted at him for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Well I think it’s time for us to head home,” he paused when he noticed how pale his friend was, “and maybe get some food in you.”

“What,” he whined, “why?”

“Because you’re drunk, Elton. And it’s not good to drink this much on an empty stomach.”

“What are you talking about? I ate earlier today.” Bernie snorted and shook his head.

“You barely finished half of your breakfast this morning.”

*****

“Come here,” Elton laughed, swaying slightly as he dragged Bernie up the stairs as soon as they got home, “I want to show you something.” Bernie couldn’t remember the last time he saw his friend legitimately excited about something, so he let himself be pulled up the stairs and into the bedroom. Elton rushed into the closet as soon as they entered the room, telling Bernie to sit in one of the chairs and wait for him.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he burst out laughing when the other man stepped out of the closet wearing a suit entirely covered in sequins.

“John thought it was a little too much,” he started, going to check himself out in the mirror, “but I think it works.”

“Were you drunk when you bought this?” Elton shook his head slowly, the alcohol making him look like he was in a daze. “Okay… Were you high, then?” He scoffed.

“Why do you assume that I was high for this?” Bernie raised an eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh.

“Were you?”

“… Maybe,” he mumbled, looking away.

“I knew it!” he shouted, the noise making Elton jump slightly. “I think that’s one of the most ‘you’ outfits I’ve ever seen,” he chuckled, “but it’s also _just_ ridiculous enough to be something that you wouldn’t buy while sober.” He stopped laughing when he noticed the other man staring blankly at the wall. “Let’s go downstairs for a bit, yeah? I’ll make us some food and then we can talk.” He put an arm around Elton’s shoulders and led him to the kitchen, making sure he didn’t fall down the stairs.

“I’ve got it, Bernie,” he waved him off, swaying a bit as he got some soup that was left over out and put it on the stove. He watched it for a few minutes before putting his head in his hands when he started feeling dizzy. Bernie rushed over and helped him back to the table, rubbing his back when he sat down.

“So, how have you been feeling lately?” he asked, filling two bowls and placing them on the table. 

“Fine,” he responded, not looking up from his bowl of soup. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” He pushed the bowl away and covered his eyes with his hands.

“No,” he shook his head, eyes still covered by his hands, “I guess I’m not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like i said at the end of the last chapter, updates for this story are most likely going to be coming a lot slower for a little while as I try to deal with a friend's death. I'm gonna try and get this story written as fast as possible, though.
> 
> anyway, hope everyone enjoys :)


	5. up all night

“You do know that most people sleep at night, right?” Bernie asked as he stood in the doorway and watched his friend. It had been a little past two in the morning when he was woken up by the sound of the piano being played downstairs. He groaned loudly and rubbed his eyes before slowly heading down to see what the other man was doing up this early in the morning.

“Shit, Bernie,” he snapped, jumping slightly at the sound of his friend’s voice, “what are you doing up?”

“I heard the piano,” he said, walking over and sitting next to him on the bench. “What are you doing down here at two in the morning?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled, shrugging. He was quiet for a minute before finally whispering, “Sorry I woke you.” Bernie just waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it.” The other man just stared at him. “Honestly, Elton. It’s not a big deal.” Despite the fact that he still looked a little unsure, he nodded once and turned his gaze back to his hands. “Is there—uh—anything you want to talk about?”

“Not really,” he said slowly, giving the other man a strange look. “Just go back to bed, Bernie. I’ll be fine.”

*****

“Are you sure?” Bernie asked as he and Elton sat at the table eating breakfast. He was already in the kitchen when Bernie came down, and he wondered if his friend had ever actually gone back to bed after their conversation earlier.

“Yes, Bernie. I can get myself to the studio today.” He stared at his friend, not at all convinced by his statement. “I promise.” He got up to put his plate away but was stopped by Bernie taking it from his hands, placing it back on the table, and pushing him back down into his seat. “What are you doing?”

“I want to make sure you’re actually eating enough before I go because I swear to god if you start losing any more weight then I will bring you back to the rehab center myself and leave you there, Elton,” Bernie snapped, breathing heavily as he stared at his friend.

“I’m not,” he tried to argue, “and besides, I’m not even that thin anyway, so it’s not like it’s that bad.” Bernie went to interrupt but the man continued talking. “I was worse off before we went to the ranch and I was able to function just fine.”

“Just because you’re not as thin as you were when things got bad the first time doesn’t mean you’re not still struggling.” Bernie stopped when he saw his friend’s eyes narrow. “And honestly, Elton, you look like you’re struggling right now.”

“I look fine,” he shouted, catching Bernie off guard for a second.

“No you don’t,” he choked out, shaking his head sadly. “You look tired and unhappy.” He went to stand up. “But if you think you can take care of yourself, then I’ll trust you. Okay?” Elton just stared at him, not sure what else to say. At his friend’s lack of response, Bernie just grabbed his jacket and left.

He sat at the table for what felt like forever after Bernie left, slowly finishing his breakfast and putting the plate away before quickly going upstairs to his room. He dug around in his bedside table drawer, finally sighing in relief when he found all of the pills he had been hiding. He knew he was most likely being too dramatic and impulsive, but he had been contemplating doing this for a while now and so he didn’t even bother looking at what the pills were for, just grabbed a bottle of vodka and took all of them. 

He wasn’t stupid; he knew things were starting to get bad again. He saw the way everyone looked at him. He was just glad that Bernie had decided to go home so that he could be alone. His eyes filled with tears at the thought of his best friend blaming himself for this, though, and he started thinking that maybe it was a bad idea.

He stumbled into the bathroom, bottle still gripped tightly in his hand, and sat on the floor. Forcing himself to throw up the pills was always an option, but for some reason he couldn’t get himself to do it. It didn’t really matter, though, because everything faded to black as his head hit the floor.

*****

To say Elton was surprised to see John staring at him when he opened his eyes would be an understatement. He looked around the room, confusion growing with each passing second when he realized he was on the floor in his bathroom. “What’re you doing here, John?”

“You were supposed to be at the studio recording this afternoon, but you never showed up. I called Bernie to see where you were, but he told me that he went home after you told him that you would get yourself there.”

“What?” he groaned, slowly moving to sit up against the wall and putting a hand to his head when it started to hurt.

“So, imagine my surprise when I show up here and find you passed out on the bathroom floor with a bottle of vodka next to you and a couple of empty pill bottles on the vanity.” He crouched down next to Elton, staring intently at him. “What was it this time?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why did you try to kill yourself this time?”

“I didn’t.”

“You really expect me to believe that?” He moved to sit against the wall, turning to look at Elton with a slightly amused expression. “We were together for more than three years, Elton; I think I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Why does it matter, then?”

“I’m just curious,” he shrugged, “and I’d like to know what I should say to Taupin when I tell him what happened.”

“No,” he yelled out, shaking his head as he grabbed John’s arm. “You can’t tell Bernie about this.”

“And why not?”

“Because,” he sighed, taking off his glasses and covering his eyes with his hands, “he’ll hate me if he finds out.”

“I highly doubt that, Elton. I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would make him hate you.”

“Okay, well… He’s been on my case about pretty much everything lately—"

“About taking care of yourself.” The other man raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s what he’s been nagging you about.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, John.”

“Really? Because you and I are currently sitting on the bathroom floor after you took god knows how many pills earlier.”

“Okay… So maybe I’m not that good at taking care of myself, but I’m clearly fine right now. I’ll suck it up and everything will go back to the way it usually is.” John stared at him, convinced that his ex-boyfriend had finally lost his mind.

“Well… I should probably go then,” he started, pushing himself off the wall and standing, “now that I know you’re alive and everything.”

“Right,” Elton choked out, looking down sadly. “Go ahead.” John just ran a hand through his hair and nodded before leaving the bathroom. He banged his head against the wall a few times, groaning in frustration before deciding to pull himself together in case Bernie decided to show up again.


	6. the pressure's hard to take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried. hope you enjoy

“Bernie!” Elton shouted, smile on his face as he rushed down the stairs and pulled his friend into a hug. “What’re you doing here?”

“I called a bunch of times but no one answered, so I figured I would come and check on you,” he said slowly, looking at the other man like he had no idea who he was. “What’s going on?”

“I’m redecorating,” he gestured around the room, grin still plastered on his face, “isn’t it great?” Bernie just stared at him in slight confusion. “I was bored so I figured, why not go shopping?” He paused, looking around a bit before apparently remembering something. “Oh, and I also made food this morning,” he said nonchalantly. Bernie was glad that his hands were empty because he definitely would have dropped something. He was also starting to think that maybe someone had kidnapped his best friend and replaced him with this somewhat stable clone standing in front of him.

“Really?”

“Yeah… It’s in the kitchen if you want some.”

“Does that mean that you’re going to actually eat something for once?”

“I did already.” Bernie narrowed his eyes slightly in disbelief as he scrutinized his friend, trying to figure out if he was lying or not. “I’m serious!” The other man still didn’t look convinced. “I’ve actually been forcing myself to eat more often, can’t you tell?”

“You’re wearing, like, four layers, how would I possibly be able to tell?” Elton bit his lip and shrugged.

“I can tell,” he muttered, tugging on the sleeves of his jacket. Bernie raised an eyebrow at him. “Every time I look in the mirror, I can tell.”

“You should know by now not to trust what you see when you look at yourself, Elton. That’s part of what made this issue worse for you in the first place.” He sighed when he noticed the other man trying to avoid his gaze.

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door and Elton frowned as he went to see who it was. “Ray!” he said, face breaking into the same wide smile that he had given Bernie when he opened the door and saw his friend, “what are you doing here?”

“I called him,” Bernie cut in before Ray could answer, staring intently at his friend, “figured I should have backup in case I got here and things were bad.”

“Bad?” he asked, looking back and forth between his two friends. Ray had a distinct feeling that something wasn’t right and he stared at Elton as he tried to figure out what it was.

“Elton, mate,” Ray started, turning to his friend and grabbing his arm before he had the chance to run off, “how long has it been since you slept?”

“Why?” Ray raised an eyebrow at him, not quite sure if he was being serious.

“Why?” Elton nodded slowly. “Well… The smudges under your eyes are getting so dark they could almost pass as bruises, your skin is pale, and you’re shaking. Plus, I’m sure the amount of coke you’ve been shoving up your nose is doing nothing to help. You’ve been running around for god knows how long redecorating your fucking house,” he stopped to take a breath, “and you cooked. Like, actual food.”

*****

Bernie frowned when he and Ray heard someone knocking on the door. He had no idea where Elton had wandered off to or if he was expecting anyone else, but when his friend still didn’t reappear after the third time the person knocked, he sighed and went to open the door. “Sheila,” he said, surprised to see her and Ivy standing there. He gestured for the two women to come in and Sheila nodded before walking in and looking around the room. Ivy, on the other hand, pulled him into a tight hug as soon as she walked in.

“Your house is a disaster,” she said instead of a greeting once she saw her son come downstairs, and he cringed at the sound of her voice. Bernie noted that he still looked beyond exhausted, but at least the clothes he changed into made him look slightly more put-together than he had earlier.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t really aware that you all were planning on coming here today,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You invited us, darling,” his mother said slowly, as though he were a child. It made his blood boil.

“No, mum,” he snapped, “I’m pretty sure John did.”

“Where is John, anyway? It’s been much too long since we’ve seen him.”

“We’re not together anymore,” he groaned. “I told you that the last time we spoke on the phone, remember?”

“Oh, of course,” she paused, “does that mean that you and Bernie are—” she gestured between the two men right as Elton cut her off.

“No, mum. I’m not interested in him like that. Plus, he’s straight.”

“Well, what about your other friend there?” She pointed at Ray and Elton was grateful that the man was too far away to hear their conversation.

“I don’t sleep with every person I know.” Sheila raised an eyebrow.

“That still doesn’t answer the question, darling.”

“No,” he sneered, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible, “Ray and I are not together either.”

“So you’re alone, then.” He just glared at her and, taking her son’s silence as a ‘yes’, she continued. “Is that why you’ve, uh,” she gestured vaguely at him, “let yourself go a bit? Because you don’t have someone anymore?”

“What?” he all but choked out, face paling considerably. Bernie watched his friend bite his lip and fidget a little at his mother’s words, and he felt a sudden urge to bang his head against the wall. It seemed like, each time she opened her mouth, he became more aware of why his best friend felt the way he did about her. 

“Oh hush, Sheila,” Ivy scolded, swatting lightly at her daughter’s arm, “he looks good.” She pulled him in for a hug, pausing when he just stood there. “A little less sickly than he did when we saw him at that party he and John threw.”

“I guess,” he mumbled, shrugging as he looked down at the floor and wrapped his arms tightly around himself. He really didn’t want to talk about this right now.

“How about we all go and sit for lunch,” Ray suddenly yelled out, realizing what was happening and trying to relieve some of the tension. He knew what was most likely going through his friend’s mind right now, and he knew that they needed to do something before he became completely derailed. 

“Yeah,” Bernie nodded slowly, “let’s do that.” He offered his arm to Ivy and the two of them followed Sheila out of the room.

Ray walked over to Elton, whispered a “pull yourself together, mate,” in his ear, and followed everyone else to the dining room.

He pushed the food around on his plate, not all that interested in eating. He was still a little shaken up by his mother’s words and he wanted to kick himself for always being so _bloody_ sensitive. He knew that both Ray and Bernie were watching him to make sure he ate, though, so he took a few bites of his food to placate them.

He wasn’t sure how long he had actually been sitting at the table, but as he tried to take his mind off of the food sitting heavily in his stomach, it felt like an eternity. “I’ll be right back,” Elton snapped once he couldn’t take it anymore, pushing his half-eaten plate away as he stood from his seat and left. Bernie sighed as he watched his friend hurry from the room, immediately knowing what was going on. He was hoping that his friend looking a little better meant that he had stopped purging so much, but he guessed he was wrong. 

He waited about five minutes before finally giving a weak excuse and going up to his friend’s bedroom. “You’ve got to stop doing this, Reg,” he whispered when he entered the bathroom, sighing as he watched his friend wipe blood from his mouth. “It’s not healthy.” Elton didn’t say anything, just looked at Bernie while he threw the bloody tissue away and shook some white powder onto the vanity. He was starting to get really frustrated with his friend for how little he cared about his own safety and well-being. “How long have you been throwing up blood again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even though life isn't going well for me right now, this story is 100% going to have a happy ending. my writing is usually dictated by how i'm feeling, but i have the ending planned out already so any leftover sadness will not be able to ruin it


	7. a different kind of danger

“How did you know where I was?” Elton asked, ignoring his friend’s previous question and turning to face him after wiping the residual coke from under his nose. Bernie scoffed.

“Are you serious?” Elton just stared at him and Bernie had to stop himself from laughing coldly at how dense his friend was being. “You always come up here to shove your fingers down your throat when there are people over,” he shrugged. “That way no one will hear or bother you.”

“Yeah, well… Clearly that’s not working because, once again, here you are.”

“You know,” Bernie started, staring at his friend in slight disbelief, “I’m just trying to look out for you.” Elton just scoffed. “Not that you’d ever be thankful for it.” He didn’t respond after that, instead choosing to sit on the edge of the bathtub and avoid the other man’s gaze. Bernie took one last look at him and shook his head before leaving his friend in the bathroom and heading back downstairs.

“Where did Elton run off to?” Sheila asked when Bernie finally returned.

“He, uh… Wasn’t feeling well,” he stuttered, trying to make it sound as believable as possible. “So I think it would probably be best if we cut this lunch short, then.” He went to lead her to the door, pausing when she held up a hand to stop him. Bernie could tell just by looking at her that she was about to make some sort of nasty comment about her son.

“Well… When he’s feeling better,” she started, giving Bernie a sweet, albeit fake smile, “would you tell him that he should probably quit this little habit of his, because no one wants to be with someone who makes themselves vomit after every meal.” Bernie heard a door being closed and immediately knew that Elton had heard everything.

“You want me to stay?” Ray asked, walking over and putting a comforting hand on Bernie’s shoulder. He shook his head.

“No, I should be able to handle him.” Ray just nodded slowly and patted him on the shoulder before following the two women out the front door. He sighed once he closed the door, glad that it was finally just the two of them again. He wasn’t entirely sure how their conversation was going to go, but knew it was best for them to be alone just in case Elton lost his cool. He snorted as he thought about it. _If? More like ‘when’ he loses it, what with the way his temper has been lately._

He finally decided to just get it over with and made his way back up the stairs and into his friend’s bedroom. “You really shouldn’t be drinking,” he whispered as he stood in the doorway, watching Elton take a drink from his glass of whiskey and wince as it burned his throat. “Especially if you’ve been throwing up blood again.”

“What are you still doing here, Bernie?” he asked, glare firmly plastered on his face. “Come to lecture me about my poor life decisions again?”

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped, grabbing one of the pillows from the bed and throwing it at him. “You’ve got to stop doing this!”

“Doing what… Hm?” he shrugged nonchalantly. “What do I need to stop doing, Bernie?”

“Trying so hard to kill yourself!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he wiped his eyes as he felt angry tears start to fall, his ears still ringing from how loudly he was yelling. He made his way over to where Elton was sitting and took a seat in the chair across from him. “Do you even want to be alive anymore?” He didn’t say anything, and Bernie could feel both his frustration and worry increasing by the second. What if it turned out that his best friend actually wanted to die? Then what? 

“You weren’t always like this, Reg,” he whispered, reaching out to take his hand. He stopped when Elton moved both of his arms out of reach and sat further back in his chair. “What happened to you?”

“What _happened_?” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head, “what happened was you left me that night at the party; you ran off to be with Heather and completely threw aside everything we had planned.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. “Like it didn’t even matter. Like _I_ didn’t matter.” 

“You told me you were fine with it!”

“Yeah, well… I wasn’t, okay?” Bernie could see him trying to keep his anger under control. “I needed you there, and you just left me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” He threw his hands up in exasperation when Elton didn’t respond. “You can’t just expect people to know what you want from them.”

“You should’ve known, Bernie,” he slurred, pointing a shaking finger at him.

“No, Elton. _You_ should have told me.”

“Why? It’s not like it would’ve stopped you.” Bernie raised an eyebrow at that.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh please,” he groaned, “everyone knows that you think I’m a complete train wreck and can’t do anything on my own.” He refilled his glass with shaking hands, pausing briefly when some of the dark brown liquid spilled onto the table. “You treat me like a child.”

“I treat you like that because I care too much about you to be able to sit back and watch you destroy yourself.”

“You also don’t trust that I’m capable of handling things myself.”

“Maybe because every time I try and trust you to actually watch over yourself, you do something that could get you killed!”

“So instead you left me,” he laughed bitterly, grabbing the bottle of whiskey once again. He stared at his empty glass for a minute before deciding that it was pointless to use a glass when he was the only one drinking.

“I left because I couldn’t stand to see you spiral like that.” Elton snorted in disbelief. “And it’s not like I left you for that long, either. Plus, we spoke on the phone a bunch of—"

“Twice,” he snapped, catching Bernie off guard. “We spoke _twice_ during that entire three-month period.” He started rubbing at his arms to try and calm himself down, wishing he was anywhere else right now. Sadly, it didn’t work.

“I just… Needed a break.”

“A break from me. Because I’m _so_ horrible to deal with.” Bernie sighed deeply.

“You’re not horrible to deal with, Elton. You just… You try and force yourself to deal with everything alone and you refuse to let anyone else in. It’s hard for people to watch you suffer just because you’ve convinced yourself that asking for help makes you weak.” He just shrugged in response and Bernie took a second to compose himself. “Reid told me that you tried to kill yourself again.”

“What?” he gasped, coughing roughly as he choked on his whiskey and pausing when he noticed the small amount of blood in his hand. He guessed that Bernie noticed it too because he quickly leant over and handed him a tissue.

“I asked if you ever ended up making it to the studio that day and he told me what happened. Quite the interesting conversation, actually.” The other man bit his lip nervously, trying to avoid his gaze. This somehow made Bernie even more irritated. “Were you ever planning on telling me, or was I just supposed to show up here one day and find you dead?”

“I didn’t—”

“Because you told me that I could trust you. I asked you if something was wrong and you told me there wasn’t.”

“Because it wasn’t important.” He honestly didn’t get what Bernie was so upset about. It’s not like anyone would actually care what happened to him.

“The fact that you were feeling suicidal _is_ important, Elton. Just because you hate yourself and think it wouldn’t matter if you died, doesn’t mean everyone else feels the same way.”

He should have said more, should have done something to make his friend see how much he mattered. He never got the chance, though.

“Honestly, Bernie,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes and sounding like he was ready to give up, “just go home. Get away from my drama.” He shook his head. “I don’t need your charity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coping with death by writing something angsty is my new mood since there are no other ways to express the sadness


	8. the world's a beast of a burden

Elton had really screwed up. But then again, what else is new? He had regretted everything he said to Bernie as soon as he heard the front door slam behind his friend.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew there was something wrong with him. He knew it wasn’t normal to want to die or to spend every day drunk and high or to shove his fingers down his throat so often that he started throwing up blood with his food. 

So he spent the next few hours wallowing, having calmed his anger a little when he threw the empty whiskey bottle at his mirror and shattered it. He thought about maybe getting himself something to eat since he’d thrown up everything earlier, but wasn’t entirely convinced that he would be able to make it down the stairs without killing himself. It was getting late, though, and he knew he would need to eat something eventually, so he forced himself up and out of his chair before tripping on one of the many pieces of furniture he had insisted on putting in his room and collapsing in a heap on the floor. He winced when he felt the sharp pain of something cutting his arm followed by the all-too familiar feeling of blood running down his skin. “Fuck.”

He lay there for a couple of minutes before slowly getting to his feet, letting his mind wander back to the argument he and Bernie had had earlier and wondering just how long he had been lying to his friend about how he was feeling. He thought about it some more, eventually coming to the realization that he didn’t actually want to die. That he was sure about. He just wanted all the pain and trauma and issues to go away. He wanted to be able to get better. And as he glanced at the phone sitting on his bedside table, he got an idea. Something that, if he was truly serious about wanting to get better, needed to happen. So he rushed over and picked up the phone, quickly dialing the number before he had the chance to chicken out. It rang for what felt like an eternity; he almost cried when the man finally picked up and he uttered a quiet “John?” before hearing him sigh.

“What is it, Elton?” He bit his lip nervously, starting to wonder if it had actually been a good idea to call him. Yeah, he was still his manager, but other than that John was no longer obligated to help him now that they weren’t together.

“Something happened.”

“What did you do this time?” he sighed again.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” he choked out, wiping away the few tears that had begun to roll down his cheeks.

“What about Taupin?” Elton shook his head, momentarily forgetting that the other man couldn’t see him.

“Bernie left a few hours ago. We, uh… We had an argument,” he paused briefly, not sure if he should continue or not. When John didn’t say anything in response, he figured he should. “It’s my fault, really. I was being a right prick to him when all he was trying to do was help.”

“So how does this involve me?” he asked. The fact that Elton had called him was slightly concerning. Even when they were together, Elton rarely called him when he was in trouble or had done something stupid.

“I—uh—I need help,” he paused as more blood ran down his arm, “like… Soon.” The other man didn’t say anything for a few minutes and Elton was worried that maybe he’d hung up. “Please, John,” he begged, voice cracking as he attempted to keep his emotions in check. He looked down at the blood that was now covering his hand. “You know I wouldn’t call unless it was absolutely urgent.”

“Fine,” he groaned before glancing at his watch and grabbing his keys. He was just about to hang up when he thought of one more thing. “And Elton?”

“Hm?”

“Try not to do anything else before I get there.”

*****

“Shit, Elton,” John snapped, bursting into the bedroom and seeing him lying on his back on the bed. “What the fuck did you do?” He noticed the blood covering the sheets and immediately went to sit next to where he was laying, grabbing his arm and quickly dropping it back on the bed when he felt all of the blood. “We need to clean this up.”

“Hm…” he lifted his head slightly and turned to look at John, a lazy grin plastered on his face. “You’re here.” He could tell that Elton was beyond fucked up right now just by looking at him.

“And you are both drunk _and_ high right now.” He looked around for a moment. “Do you have a first aid kit anywhere?”

“I don’t know.” John went to look in the bathroom while Elton watched him, sitting up slowly and bringing a hand to his head when he started to feel dizzy. He vaguely felt something wet on his forehead but couldn’t find it in himself to really care at this point. He just wanted to get this over with so that he could ask the other man to help him. John had just found the first aid kit (which had no doubt been bought and restocked by Bernie) when he caught sight of him and rushed back over to the bed.

“No no no,” he took Elton’s hand, pulling it away from his face and sighing when he heard him whine quietly. “Oh, stop whining,” he groaned when the other man tried to swat at his hand, “you wiped blood all over your forehead and we need to clean it off.”

It took a little while, but John finally managed to get the other man to sit still long enough for him to clean all the blood from his forehead and some from his arm. He was just about to grab something to remove the piece of glass from his arm when Elton decided to pull it out himself. John sighed as it began bleeding again and took some of the bandages out of the first aid kit.

“Now…” He paused when he saw the other man cover his eyes with the arm that John wasn’t trying to bandage, shoulders shaking. For a moment he thought that Elton had started crying, but he was clearly mistaken. “Are you laughing?” He didn’t say anything, just nodded his head a few times. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m such a train wreck,” he laughed, laying his head on John’s shoulder. “I fell over a fucking ottoman and into a pile of glass.”

“Yeah, well… I told you it was a bad purchase.” He felt Elton prod at his hand a few times and he sighed, taking his hand and interlacing their fingers. “What am I doing here, Elton?”

“I, um… I kind of need you to take me somewhere.” He glanced over at John, trying to gauge his reaction. “And I need you to do it now because I’m worried that if we wait then I’ll end up chickening out.”

“Okay,” he started, trying his best to keep a straight face, “so there are a few problems with this. First, I have no idea where you want me to take you. And second, it’s almost two in the fucking morning.”

“I need you to take me back to rehab.” He bit his lip when John just stared at him. “What?”

“Well… Like I said, it’s almost two in the morning, so we can’t really leave _right_ this moment.” Now it was Elton’s turn to stare at the other man. “Why don’t you sleep for a bit and then I’ll take you once it’s a little later.” He nodded slowly and made his way back to the bed.

“Okay.” 

*****

“John?” Bernie asked when the other man opened the door, “what are you doing here?” He walked in, slowly looking around for any sign of his best friend. When he didn’t find any, he turned back to John with an eyebrow raised. “Where’s Elton?”

“He’s not here.”

“What do you mean _‘he’s not here’_? Where did he go?” He waited a minute for John to answer, groaning when it became clear that the other man wasn’t going to say anything. “Okay, well… If he’s not here, then why are you?” Their conversation was briefly interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“Mr. Reid?” Both men turned to look at the woman. “Did you want me to start on Mr. John’s room? I’ll need to do the sheets soon if we want all of the blood to come out.”

“Blood?” he snapped, glaring at John before running up the stairs and into the bedroom. “Shit,” he choked out when he saw the stains on the bed. The thought of what had possibly happened to his friend made him feel physically sick and he turned to run back downstairs, stopping when he saw John already standing in the doorway. “What did you do to him, Reid?”

“ _I_ didn’t do anything to him, Taupin. He called me.”

“He called you?” John nodded.

“He said he didn’t know who else to call because the two of you had had a fight—”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it a fight,” Bernie cut in, raising an eyebrow. John just glared at him and he put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Anyway… He said he needed help and asked me to come, so I did. Found him lying in bed with a bloody arm, completely fucked out of his mind.”

“Did he… Uh,” he gestured at his wrists, hoping that it wasn’t what he thought it was. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Elton died.

“No, he did not try to kill himself.” Bernie could have cried at John’s words, and he was so relieved that he almost missed what the other man said next. “He told me that he threw a bottle of whiskey at the mirror and it shattered. And then he tripped over that hideous ottoman and fell.”

“So, where is he now?”

“I dropped him off at the rehabilitation center this morning.”

“What?”

“He asked me to take him there.” Bernie couldn’t hide his shock as he watched the other man shrug nonchalantly. “You can’t see him, though,” John said calmly, which in turn made Bernie even more frustrated. How could he be so calm through all of this? And the fact that he had the audacity to tell Bernie that he couldn’t see his best friend, as if he wasn’t the only person who actually watched over Elton. 

“And why can’t I?”

“He’s not allowed any visitors right now.” He frowned when he saw the angry look still on the other man’s face. “Don’t freak out about this, Taupin. He’s safe. Plus, he put you down on his approved call list so the two of you will be able to talk. They just said that it might be a little while before anyone would be allowed to come see him.”


	9. never be afraid again

Elton was absolutely miserable.

He knew that detoxing was going to be awful, the process having been seared into his memory the last time he started treatment. He never would have guessed that it would be this bad, though. He had been at the center for a little over a week and the withdrawal symptoms didn’t look like they were planning on letting up anytime soon.

He was currently curled up in a ball on the bed, shaking violently and sweating profusely. His lunch lay abandoned on its tray near his bed and, as usual, looked as though he hadn’t managed to eat more than three or four bites of it. He tried to, but the nausea quickly became too overwhelming and he found himself vomiting into one of the trash bins almost immediately afterwards. 

The room had been spinning ever since then and he squeezed his eyes shut to try and will away his impending nausea. That only seemed to make things worse, though, so he wrapped his arms around himself, whimpering quietly when the movement pulled on the IV in his hand. Apparently, they had put it in yesterday after he collapsed in the bathroom from dehydration.

“Elton,” he heard someone whisper from near his bed. He assumed it was one of the nurses who came to check on him every 15 minutes. “You need to get up.”

“m’not sleeping,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Okay, well… I have something for you.” He opened his eyes at the sound of something being pushed next to the bed and startled a bit when he saw the syringe laying on the cart. “I know it probably doesn’t seem like we should be giving you a bunch of different things while you’re trying to detox, but it’s been over a week and you still can barely eat.” She pointed to the tray containing his barely-touched lunch before gesturing for him to give her his hand. “So, I’m going to give you some of this to help with the nausea and then you’re gonna try to eat something, okay?” He just groaned and wrapped the arm without the IV tighter around himself, letting out another whimper as the mere thought of food seemed to make his nausea worsen. “I know you don’t want to, but the medicine should help at least a little bit.” He shifted a bit in discomfort and forced himself into a sitting position.

“I would be able to eat just fine if I wasn’t trapped in here without any coke or alcohol,” he snapped angrily, immediately squeezing his eyes shut when his volume sent a wave of pain through his head.

“The amount of weight you’ve lost during this short of a time span is concerning, and drugs and alcohol aren’t going to solve that problem. They may seem like they would make everything better, but you would just end up having to go through all of this again.” She finished putting the medicine into his IV and moved the cart away from his bed. “Dinner is in 20 minutes. At least try to eat some of it, all right?” Elton stared at her for a minute before nodding slowly and laying back down.

*****

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Elton jumped at the sound, dropping the pencil he had been using to write in the notebook his counselor had given him after he had lost his “homework” for the fifth time. He turned toward the source of the sound, face breaking into a smile when he saw his friend grinning back at him. “Bernie!” he said as the other man pulled him into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Your counselor told me that I could come and see you today.” His friend just nodded and Bernie took a minute to look him over again. “So, your outfit is definitely, uh… Different than usual.”

“Ugh, I know. It’s so bland, Bernie” he groaned, shaking his head.

“I just can’t remember the last time I saw you in something so—”

“Horrible?” he cut in, sitting back down and wrapping his arms around himself.

“I was gonna say ‘normal’. And monochromatic.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t want to end up in the same situation as I was last time, so I didn’t bring any of the clothes I usually wear.” He shrugged in an attempt to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal, but Bernie could tell that he was uncomfortable. “I want to give myself the best possible chance to get better, and I know that won’t happen if I’m spending all my time fretting over how my clothes fit.” He thought back to the conversation he and Elton had the last time he was in treatment. He wanted to tell his friend that that shouldn’t be the thing he worried about right now, especially considering the fact that he looked quite a bit thinner than when he got there. He figured this probably wasn’t the best time to bring that up, though.

“What were you writing?” he asked, pointing to the notebook that was sitting on the table.

“Just some stuff for my next therapy session. They gave me a notebook to use after I kept losing the scraps of paper that I would write things on.” Bernie nodded and looked around the room, trying to figure out what to say next.

“So, uh… How have things been going for you?” This was the first time he had seen his friend since he started treatment and, while it seemed like Elton was no longer angry with him, he was still worried that things between the two of them were strained. He looked around the room for a second before turning back to Bernie.

“Let’s talk outside,” he said, wincing quietly as he stood from his chair and shuffled toward the door. He turned around after a few seconds and frowned when he saw the other man still standing by the table. “You coming, Bernie?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Bernie nodded quickly and rushed over. The two of them were just about to leave the room when he heard someone call his friend’s name.

“You need to be back in here for lunch in an hour, got it?” Elton stared at the woman for a moment before nodding slowly and heading outside, Bernie following close behind.

“Speaking of lunch,” Bernie started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as they walked, “how have you been doing with eating?” Elton shrugged. “Because you look thinner than you were the last time I saw you.” He stopped abruptly and Bernie barely had enough time to stop before he crashed into him.

“I know,” he mumbled, glancing at his friend warily. “I lost weight while detoxing because I could barely keep anything down for almost two weeks.” Bernie sighed when he heard this, a frown on his face, and Elton must have thought that the other man was frustrated with him because he kept talking. “I swear I’m trying, though,” he rambled, face getting red, “and, uh… And the doctors said that I’m making progress and that I already don’t look as shitty as I did after those first two weeks.”

"Shitty?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Elton sighed dramatically. 

"Okay, so maybe they didn't _actually_ use those exact words," he laughed, "but they did say that I'm starting to look better."

“That’s good, at least,” he said, smiling lightly. “It’s good that you’re starting to get better.” Elton nodded, giving his friend a weak smile in return.

“It’s kind of weird sometimes, though,” he told Bernie as the two of them took a seat on one of the benches outside.

“What is?”

“I’ll be talking to the counselor during one of my individual sessions and, you know, telling them about everything I’ve been feeling.” Bernie nodded. “I’ll tell them what’s been happening and then they’ll just look at me and be like, ‘that sucks.’ They won’t immediately try to offer solutions. And then sometimes, when I’m having a hard time during meals, one of the nurses will sit and talk with me so that I’m not constantly thinking about how uncomfortable I am.”

“Does it help?”

Elton thought for a minute before nodding slowly. “I think so.” He paused momentarily as he attempted to gather his thoughts. “It just—I don’t know—makes me feel a little more at ease about everything. Like… Like, I don’t need to feel bad about how I’m feeling.” He bit his lip nervously and fidgeted with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I’m really sorry, Bernie,” he whispered after a few minutes of silence. Bernie turned to face him, eyebrow raised in confusion.

“What for?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “pretty much everything.” He took a deep breath and sighed deeply, hoping that he’d be able to keep his emotions in check for once in his life. “For pushing you away all those times when you were just trying to help me. For not going through with treatment the first time. For putting you through everything that I did. For lying to you about how I was feeling. For saying that I didn’t need you and then telling you to leave.”

“Because, the truth is,” he took another deep breath and tried to stop his hands from shaking, “I really need you, Bernie. I took advantage of your friendship for such a long time and you didn’t deserve any of that. You’re the most important person in my life. I really screwed things up, and I hope that you’ll be able to forgive me one day.” He spared a glance at Bernie, face falling when he couldn’t decipher the look on his face. “I completely understand if you feel like you can’t, though.”

Bernie felt his eyes fill with tears as he listened to his best friend talk. For the first time in what felt like forever, though, they weren’t from being sad or angry or worried. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Elton had a conversation like this. One where his friend wasn’t drunk and/or high the whole time. One that didn’t involve him being terrified for his friend’s well-being. One where the other man didn’t lose his temper at the drop of a hat. “Of course I forgive you, mate,” he chuckled when he saw his friend breathe a sigh of relief. “Come here,” he said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. “You know that I love you, right?” Elton nodded. “So you don’t need to be afraid to tell me when something is wrong or when you feel sad.” The other man just stared at him in disbelief. “And I am so unbelievably proud of you for coming here and working at taking better care of yourself.”


	10. slowly coming back to life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here we are. the last chapter. thanks to everyone who stuck with this from the beginning. this may or may not get a short epilogue chapter added. i really hope everyone enjoyed reading and feel free to let me know what you think; reading comments always makes my day

“I’m impressed, Elton,” his counselor said, putting her pen down and smiling at him, “you’ve made a lot of really good progress.”

“Thanks,” he whispered, “I feel a lot better now.”

“Are you gonna be going home with Bernie today?” He shook his head slowly.

“No, uh… John is coming to get me.”

“And are you okay with that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. She knew all about the two men’s relationship history and wanted to make sure that Elton felt comfortable returning home with the other man. He nodded quickly before looking down at the notebook in his lap.

“Yeah,” he paused for a moment, “I mean, we’ve talked on the phone a few times and he came to visit, so it should be fine.” He stopped, looking nervously at her. When she gave him an encouraging smile in return, he decided to continue. “I am a little bit scared, though.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “About?”

“I’m worried that I’m just gonna end up falling back into the same pattern I was in before.” She nodded in understanding. “Like… I know I’ve made progress over the past few months, and I’m really proud of myself for that, I just… I just don’t want it to be like last time, when I completely spiraled as soon as things got too stressful.”

“This isn’t like last time, Elton.” Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow at the woman sitting across from him. “You made it through treatment.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, but…”

“And you’ll still have support even after you leave here. Remember? You still have therapy and meetings to help you through it.”

“Don’t forget about the nutritionist,” he pointed out, trying his best to hide his frustration. He could handle going to therapy and meetings just fine. But he was _not_ looking forward to talking about his relationship with food and his body once a week.

“You don’t want to continue seeing the nutritionist,” she commented. He shook his head quickly. “Unfortunately, continuing with the nutritionist is part of your discharge plan for at least the first couple months.” He groaned loudly and she couldn’t help but smile a little bit at it. “You’ve done well here, and we want to do everything we can to help you remain in a healthy place after you leave.”

“I’m just worried that being forced to talk about it is going to make me obsess over how much my body has changed now that I’ve sort of got the whole ‘bulimia’ thing under control.” He let out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I was so worried that I literally told John that I wanted him to throw out all of my clothes! How ridiculous is that?”

*****

“You ready to go?” John asked, shaking Elton’s arm to get his attention. He had been sitting in the main area when the other man arrived, his bag packed and paperwork filled out. All that was left was for John to take him home.

“Yeah,” he nodded, picking up his bag and following him out of the building. The drive was surprisingly awkward (or at least to him it was), and they had been in the car for about 30 minutes when he finally turned to John. “Thanks for coming to get me.” The other man gave a quick nod in response and Elton huffed, leaning back in his seat and wrapping his arms around himself. _Oh yeah. Definitely awkward_ , he thought to himself as he stared out the window. Neither of them said anything else until they arrived home.

“Why don’t you head inside while I get your bag,” John said as soon as they pulled up in front of the house and parked.

“Are you sure?” John just nodded and handed Elton the house keys. He stared at them in his hand for a moment before slowly going to unlock the door.

Stepping into his house for the first time in almost three months felt weirder than he would have thought. He was glad to be back, but the emptiness made him more than a little uncomfortable. Maybe that’s why he was walking around looking like he expected something to suddenly jump out at him. It didn’t even really feel like his home anymore.

“I didn’t throw your clothes out,” John said when he came through the front door with his stuff a few minutes later. Elton turned to look at him, eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“Your clothes…” he set the bag on the floor. “I didn’t get rid of them. Figured it was kind of unnecessary and ridiculous, so I—"

“Yeah, okay,” he interrupted, waving him off as he made his way into the sitting room. “I’m gonna go and lay down for a bit.” John just nodded before heading in the opposite direction toward the kitchen.

He plopped down on the sofa and stared at the phone for a few minutes before picking it up and dialing Bernie’s number. He waited impatiently as it rang, groaning to himself when he eventually heard his friend’s voice telling him to leave a message. “Hey,” he said as soon as the answering machine beeped, “it’s me. I, uh… I just got home.” He looked around the room, wrinkling his nose at how quiet it was. “John is here with me right now. I think he’s getting rid of all the alcohol in the house.” He twirled the cord around his finger. “Anyway, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come and stay here with me for a—" he was cut off by another beep and he sighed, hanging up the phone and laying his head back against the pillows. 

*****

John sighed when he heard someone knock on the door a few hours later. He had just been about to go and get rid of all of the leftover alcohol from Elton’s bedroom and he just wanted to be finished so that he could go home. He placed the trash bin on the floor with a huff before making his way to the door and opening it.

“He’s on the sofa,” he told Bernie as he let him inside. 

“Uh… Thanks.” John gave him a curt nod as he shut the door, and Bernie looked back at him briefly before going to see his friend. “Hey,” he said, face breaking into a wide smile as he took a seat on the sofa and wrapped an arm around the other man’s shoulders. “You did it.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling as well, “I did it.”

“I’m glad you’re back, mate. I really missed you.” Bernie glanced at him as he removed his arm from around Elton’s shoulders. “I know we talked on the phone a bunch of times, but it feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.” He placed a comforting hand on his knee. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, looking down at himself. “I, uh… I feel good.”

They spent the next hour or so catching up, Bernie telling him all about what had been happening over the past three months while he was away at treatment. It was like no time had passed between them, and they only stopped their conversation when John came in to say he was leaving and to remind Elton to give him a call when he was ready to start recording again.

“Have you eaten?” Bernie asked not long after John left, nudging Elton when he saw him starting to zone out. He shook his head.

“Not yet.”

“Let’s go find something to make for dinner, then.” He stood up slowly and stretched before turning to his friend and pulling him off the sofa. “What do you want to make?” he asked as he led them to the kitchen. Elton just squeezed his eyes shut and cringed.

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” he started, sighing. “I don’t have any actual food in the house.” Bernie raised an eyebrow at him. “I was going to force myself to go to the store like a responsible adult once I got home, but then I sat down and decided that I didn’t want to get back up.”

“So I guess we’ll be getting takeaway, then.” He went over to the drawer where he knew his friend kept everything and pulled out a menu. “How does pizza sound?”

“That’s fine,” he nodded, going to sit down and stopping when he remembered the paper sitting in his bag. “Wait!” he yelled, running out of the room and returning with a notebook and the piece of paper. “We need to have some of these things.” He placed the paper on the table and Bernie looked it over.

“A meal plan?” he asked, looking at his friend in confusion. He nodded. “What’s it for?”

“Well… According to my nutritionist, it’s so that I eat a well-balanced diet.” He pulled the paper back and opened his notebook. “But I’m pretty sure they’re just using this to try and force me to make up for all the time I spent not taking good enough care of myself.”

*****

“You have no idea how amazing it feels to finally eat something that tastes good and, for once, not worry about throwing it up afterwards,” he sighed, taking a bite of his pizza and leaning back into the pillows. Bernie just laughed and shook his head. “I’m being serious! The food at the center was so bad most of the time, and I’m pretty sure the only reason my body recovered physically was because I was forced to eat the food three times a day and wasn’t allowed in the bathrooms to throw any of it up.” 

“Well, it’s good that you weren’t throwing up.” He patted the other man’s hand gently before picking up his own plate and starting to eat.

They had been eating in silence for a few minutes when Elton felt his friend staring at him. “Bernie?”

“Hm?”

“Could you maybe, like, not stare at me?” he asked, taking a small bite of his food. He saw Bernie raise an eyebrow at him and he sighed. “I’m finally comfortable with eating around other people again, but your staring is starting to make me feel super self-conscious.” He looked down at his plate as he said this, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I just… Now that I don’t have the drugs or the alcohol or the binging and purging taking over my life and my mind, I’m becoming, like, even more hyper-aware of my body and what I look like.”

“Can I say something really quick?” Bernie asked, staring intently at him. The other man just nodded. “I don’t know if this will mean anything to you, but there was never anything wrong with the way you looked.”

Elton put his pizza down and stared at his friend. “What?”

“I don’t know for sure what started it in the first place, but your body was never a problem.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And I hate that you were so unhappy for such a long time because of it.”

“I do feel happier now, though. Like, at the beginning, it was really hard. Especially once all of the drugs and alcohol were out of my system.” He put his plate on the table and curled back up on the sofa. “I was freaking out about food and my body constantly. Every time I tried to tell them that it was too much, they would tell me that I was eating a ‘normal amount’ of food and that it just seemed like a lot because I wasn’t used to eating three meals each day. It’s hard for your body to figure out what’s ‘normal’, though, when you’ve spent such a long time abusing it.”

“But now,” he continued, “it’s almost freeing. You know, not having to worry about drugs or alcohol all the time. Or worry about trying to hide my bulimia from everyone.” He chuckled quietly to himself. “I can actually look in the mirror and not be completely disgusted by my reflection.” 

“You really do look good, Reg,” he reassured him, “and I am so unbelievably proud of you for getting the help you needed.” He blushed a deep scarlet color and looked down at his lap, a lazy grin on his face. “So, are we, uh… Are we sleeping down here tonight, then?”

“I’m sorry,” he laughed nervously, “I just felt kind of weird about staying here by myself.”

“No, don’t be,” Bernie replied, waving him off. “I’m happy to be able to spend time with you again.” He watched his friend nod and he went to grab his bag from the floor. “I actually, uh… I got you something,” he started, pulling a wrapped package out of his bag and handing it to him. “You know, for finishing treatment and everything.” He pulled the paper off before opening the box slowly and stopping when he recognized the familiar material. He looked at Bernie in confusion.

“It’s…” he trailed off.

“I picked out some of your favorite old costumes and had the tailor use the material to make a sweatshirt.” Elton ran his fingers along the material, eyes filling with tears as he took it out of the box. “Do you like it?” A few tears started rolling down his cheeks and he quickly wiped them away before nodding and pulling Bernie into a hug.

“This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me,” he sobbed, trying to wipe away more tears as they continued falling. Bernie’s face broke out in a huge smile.

“Really?”

“It’s amazing,” he whispered, smiling as well. “I love it.”

Elton had never felt more content than he did in this exact moment. Everything seemed like it was finally working out in his favor for once. He had made it through treatment and had a best friend who loved him. Bernie was truly the greatest person he had ever met, and as he glanced over at his best friend, Elton wondered how he got so lucky in finding someone like him.


	11. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this last chapter posted a couple of months ago but took it down so that i could rewrite it.

**_~2 months later~  
_ **

“I already told you that I don’t mind staying,” Bernie groaned as he watched his friend cook breakfast one morning. It had been about two months since Elton finished treatment and Bernie had been staying with him since he got home. At first it was to keep his friend from getting too lonely and to make sure he took care of himself. They got into a routine after a little while, though, and both men were able to enjoy the other’s company. 

“I know,” Elton sighed and turned to face him, “I just feel bad that you’ve been away from the ranch for such a long time.”

“Two months really isn’t that long,” he chuckled, smiling lightly and nodding in thanks as Elton placed a plate of food in front of him and sat down with his own. Even though his friend had been out of rehab for a couple of months now and was doing well with taking care of himself, it still filled Bernie with relief every time he saw the other man eat a meal without making himself throw up afterwards. 

They ate in comfortable silence; that is, until Elton looked up from his plate and saw the other man staring at him. “Bernie,” he whined, putting his fork down and swallowing his food, “stop staring at me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed, taking a bite of his own food, “I’m just really glad to see you eating again.”

“You say that literally every day when we eat together,” he groaned. “I’ve been eating three meals a day and not throwing up for a while now, Bernie, if the amount of weight I’ve gained over the past 5 months didn’t already make that clear.”

“Oh hush,” he started, swatting lightly at the other man’s arm, “you look good… Happier.” Elton wrinkled his nose at that and Bernie nudged his leg under the table. “You finally look like yourself again.”

“Well, I feel a lot more like myself now.” He picked up his and Bernie’s empty plates and brought them to the sink. “And it’s nice not being so exhausted all the time.”

“Yeah, well… It’s amazing what getting sober and eating enough can do for you, mate.”

“And just taking better care of myself in general.”

“That too,” he laughed. “Oh, and before I forget… I was planning on going to the store later if you want a ride to your appointment.” Elton nodded quickly before heading upstairs and into the bathroom to shower.

He stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom in just his pants, examining his reflection. He thought it odd that people were telling him that he looks better now than he did before. He was still having a bit of a hard time believing it himself, but he could admit that he did look better now that he was no longer killing himself with the booze or drugs or not eating followed by binging and purging. Even John had said that he was glad to see him taking better care of himself.

He had gone to see his mother last month, and of course she just had to come out and tell him that he had gotten fat. He looked down at himself, a frown plastered on his face as he thought about their conversation:

_“Usually you’d be on your second or third drink by now or running off to the restroom to throw up everything you’ve eaten.”_

_“I don’t really do that stuff anymore.” She raised an eyebrow. “Actually,” he paused, clearing his throat, “I, uh... I went and got help. For the drinking, the drugs, the bulimia. All of it.”_

_She stared at him for a moment, seemingly taking in everything he had just said. “Well,” she started, gesturing to his body, “I guess that explains why you look like you’ve been putting on weight recently.”_

_“Wow... okay. Thanks mum.”_

_“I’m just saying,” she sighed, “you were always chubby as a boy. But then, for a while there, you seemed to be slimming down a bit. You looked good.” He groaned. “And now you’ve gone and gotten fat again.” She poked his stomach a couple of times, as though further proving her point._

_“Mum… Stop,” he sighed, pushing her hand away. “This is what finally taking care of myself looks like, and I’m much better off now than I was when I was thinner. If you can’t accept that, then that’s your problem.”_

At the time, he remembered being worried about standing up to her like that. Overall her reaction to everything wasn’t all that unexpected, though, so he just did his best to block her out. He was _not_ going to let her completely derail his recovery. 

*****

“I’m impressed, Elton,” the man said, looking up from Elton’s notebook and handing it back to him. “You’ve been eating consistently, you haven’t been purging, and you’ve gotten yourself to a stable weight.” Elton nodded quickly and the man raised an eyebrow. “And how are you feeling about that?” He shrugged.

“Fine, I guess.” He paused for a minute, unsure, before deciding to continue. “It’s still a little uncomfortable sometimes, though.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I feel like I’m still so hyperaware of everything about the way I look.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “And, like… Every week I come here and you look at my notebook and we talk about my weight and how I’m eating and my relationship with food and how I feel about my body and—"

“It’s a lot to handle,” he cut in. Elton nodded.

"Like, I figured that I would gain weight when I started eating more regularly and stopped binging and purging, but it still feels kind of weird. Almost like I'm doing something wrong." He nodded in understanding. “I am glad that I’m getting better, though.”

“Well that’s good.”

“But I’m not gonna lie… This,” he gestured between himself and the other man, “was awful in the beginning, and seeing a nutritionist was probably at the bottom of the list of things I wanted to have to do.”

“Oh, I know you didn’t want to be here.” Elton raised an eyebrow. “Not a lot of people do… At least not in the beginning.”

“Like, having to meet with you while I was in treatment was fine, but there’s so much more pressure now.” The other man nodded. “I really feel like I’m getting more comfortable in my own skin, though.” He bit his lip nervously. “Even though there have been a few hiccups along the way.”

“Like?” Elton sighed.

“John told Bernie that I had a scale in my room, so he came and took it.”

“Bernie did?” He nodded.

“He said he didn’t want me to be more stressed about my weight and what I looked like than I probably already was.”

“How did hearing that make you feel?”

“I guess…” he took a deep breath, attempting to gather his thoughts, “I guess it made me kind of angry at first because—I don’t know—It’s not like I don’t know that I’ve gained weight.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “I mean… It’s pretty obvious.”

“Elton,” the other man sighed. He huffed quietly and ran a hand through his hair.

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” he paused, unsure, “is that whether or not I know my weight doesn’t make things any easier. It wasn’t going to make it easier for me to believe that I’m healthier now than I was five months ago.” He nodded in understanding before urging Elton to continue. “I mean, realistically, I know that I’m healthier in this body than I was when I was thinner. It’s just hard to accept that sometimes.”

“The fact that you’re able to acknowledge that is huge, Elton. And, really… When it comes down to it, what you weigh doesn’t matter nearly as much as you think it does. What matters is whether or not you’re taking care of yourself.” He smiled and Elton couldn’t help but smile back. “You’ve made so much progress over the past few months, and I for one am extremely proud of you for that.”

*****

He walked out of the building and toward the car, pulling the door open and getting in without a word. “How was it?” Bernie asked as soon as his friend closed the door.

“Pretty good, actually,” he replied, giving the other man a small smile.

“Yeah?” Elton nodded.

“He said he’s proud of how much progress I’ve made over the past five months.”

“Well that’s good,” Bernie said as he took Elton’s hand in his and squeezed it.

“Yeah. And I forgot how good it feels to have people be proud of you for doing things.”

They stopped at a red light and Bernie turned to look at him, a wide smile on his face. “You’ve been doing really well, Reg, and we are all so proud of you and how far you’ve come.”


End file.
